


No Place For a Lady

by BoudicaMuse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoudicaMuse/pseuds/BoudicaMuse
Summary: The town of Silver Springs is in mourning after an accident at the silver mine and Darcy Lewis has a plan to make things right and rebuild what was lost. That's long term. Short term, she'd settle for a drink.





	No Place For a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom doesn't have enough non-canon AUs if you ask me. No one asked, but if they did, that's what I'd say.

Nobody stared when Darcy Lewis entered the Silver Arrow, but more than a few heads turned her way before burying themselves back in their poker hands. Darcy kept her eyes on her target, her chin tilted just a touch too high as she made her way to the bar. The bartender watched as she settled her bustle over the stool and demurely crossed her gloved hands on the scarred bartop, absently wiping out a glass all the while.

“I’ll take a whiskey,” she told him when it became obvious that he wouldn’t speak first.

“I can’t serve you whiskey, Miss Lewis,” he said. He set down his glass and flipped his rag over one shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest in a rather obscene display of bulging biceps and uncovered forearms.

“Gin, then.”

“You and I both know that your daddy would have my hide if I served you liquor.”

“My father isn’t here, Mr. Barton, but his money is. Now give me a bottle and a glass and I’ll pour it my own damn self if you’re going to be so delicate about it.”

Barton’s eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments, before he cracked a lopsided smile and reached for a dusty bottle of dark liquor on the top shelf. He poured her a healthy measure and set it carefully in front of her, his fingertips lingering on the sides of the glass, as if he was still hesitating over the morality of serving a lady.

“George Lewis was good to this town. I’m just trying to honor the man’s memory.”

“Me too,” Darcy said, before taking a wary sip. She wanted the burn of the alcohol, and mercy, did it burn, but she was hardly an experienced drinker. Her eyes watered, but a few rapid blinks cleared her vision.

Barton watched her some more with a curious tilt to his head, another glass in hand. “Get you anything else?”

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I require any assistance,” she said, fighting not to shift under such focus.

Deliberately ignoring someone directly in front of you wasn’t easy, but thankfully the bar was nice enough to have a large mirrored glass behind it. She scanned the full tables behind her and saw a few curious glances from the men at the tables and a couple of the dancing girls were whispering to each other in a back corner. At the bar itself was just her, Barton, and a grizzled old drunk at the end that Darcy didn’t know the name of. Tom, perhaps.

“So you gonna leave town now?” Barton asked.

Darcy jumped. She’d been staring at the clumsy pawing hands of one of the men near the piano, his fingers gripping the bare legs of the dancer on his lap tight enough to leave red marks.

“Why on earth would I leave?” Darcy asked. “Where would I go?”

“Well since your daddy’s gone now…” Barton trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the topic even though he had been the one to bring it up.

“All the more reason for me to stay!” Darcy said, braving another sip of her drink. “My father brought us out here when I was three years old. Silver Springs is the only home I’ve ever known. Besides, there’s far too much work to do up at the mine. I couldn’t possibly leave now. It would ruin the livelihoods of everyone in town.”

“What is it you think a little girl like yourself is gonna do?” a man asked, thunking his mostly empty beer mug onto the bar.

Darcy flinched away from him. She’d allowed herself to get distracted by Barton’s curiously handsome face and taken her eyes off the room full of strange men in the mirror. She straightened her spine and smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt, reaching for the sort of composure even Miss Thompson, her old bat of an etiquette teacher, would be proud of.

“My father is no longer with us, but there’s no reason his influence can’t continue to help this town. The explosion was devastating to many of us. On a personal level as well as financial. But if we hope to continue on here, we have no choice but to rebuild.”

“Rebuild. Ha! And what do you know about building anything, huh? What’s the best kind of mortar to stick together all that rubble with the bones of my friends?” The man drained the last of his beer and slammed the glass down hard enough it should have shattered. He gave a hollow laugh and leaned in close, his stinking breath wafting in her face. “Sure, honey, let’s rebuild and we’ll stick George Fucking Lewis’ skull on the entrance as a warning to anyone dumb enough to go back into that death trap.”

Another man, this one broader and cleaner by far stepped up and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Time to go, Buck. Let’s leave this nice lady to her drink.”

“Ain’t no ladies in a fucking bar,” the man muttered, but he turned and let his friend pull him towards the door.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. Have a nice night,” the friend called back.

Together, they shuffled out into the night and Darcy looked down at her hands as she tried to slow her racing heart, regretting this foolish outing more and more with every moment. It had been downright stupid to make this her first public outing since the memorial. Honestly, what had she been thinking walking into a bar in the first place?

“He didn’t mean it,” Barton said, his voice just barely audible over the din. “Not really. We’re all just a little messed up over the accident. And he knows that’s what it was, too. We all do. Don’t start thinking anyone with half a brain is blaming Mr. Lewis for what happened.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said, just as quiet. She wasn’t so sure he was right, but it was nice to hear.

“All the same, it might be best if I walk you home now.”

“I haven’t finished my drink,” Darcy said, taking another timid sip. This time the liquid slid down her throat with ease and settled nice and warm in her belly.

Barton plucked the glass from her fingers and swallowed the rest down in one go, raising one eyebrow at her in challenge.

“Seeing as how you never paid me for it, I don’t think it was rightly yours to begin with. C’mon now.” He circled around the bar and held out a hand to help her off the stool. Awfully gentlemanly for a man who wasn’t even properly dressed.

“Don’t you have a business to run, Mr. Barton?” Darcy asked.

She followed his lead, if only because her prospects of having her drink replaced seemed slim. Besides, three small sips of whiskey were apparently enough to give her the desired effect. Her head felt pleasantly light and the floor seemed uneven enough beneath her feet that she was grateful for the arm he offered to steady her.

“Natasha will handle things.”

A glance over her shoulder showed a woman with fiery red hair and far less décolletage on display than the rest of the girls in the bar already assuming Barton’s glass wiping duties. She met Darcy’s eye and gave her a tiny smirk just before the door swung shut behind them.

Their walk down Main Street was silent and dark and Darcy once again cursed her own stupidity for venturing out by herself to go drinking of all things. They turned down Elm and with only a few candles burning in the neighbors’ windows, there was only the moon to keep them on the path.

“Thank you for the company,” Darcy said, wincing at how loud she sounded on the quiet street. “Although walking alone at night with a man I’ve only just met is not going to do much to improve my reputation.”

“Better this than risk getting jumped in the dark with a purse full of coin.” He paused. “So this was our first meeting, then? I wondered when you knew my name without introduction. Thought maybe I had been an ass and forgotten you.”

“No,” Darcy said with a laugh. “We’ve never met. And that was very rude of me to barge on ahead as though we knew each other, but I suppose I was nervous and out of sorts because  _ you _ knew  _ my _ name.”

“Everyone in town knows you. How did you know me?”

“You’re a business owner, Mr. Barton. And my father’s greatest love was the improvement of this town. He knew every detail about every transaction that took place in Silver Springs and as his only child and most frequent dinner companion,” Darcy gave a shrug she knew he wouldn’t see. “I suppose I know them too. I have far too much knowledge about the profits and expenses of every business in town and the people that go with them.”

“I see. And I suppose you’re determined to put that knowledge to good use and save the town?” His words were mocking, but had enough genuine curiosity in them that she answered honestly.

“Well I had hoped to be of service, but it looks like I might not be as welcome as I thought.”

“You didn’t really think the town council would just let you step into your father’s place?” Again, there was no cruelty in his words, though it would have been easy for him to twist them that way.

They’d reached her home at the end of Elm, the biggest and brightest house on the block, and in all of Silver Springs. Her father had had it specifically designed to look inviting and unassuming and it was a standing reminder of his warm and open nature. But even with lamps burning cheerfully in the windows, ready to welcome her home, Darcy felt reluctant to part from the warmth of the man at her side.

“I didn’t. In fact, I thought they’d take my information and my money and then claim all the credit for themselves. But at least that way I’d still be able to help.” Darcy finally took a step away and let her hand drop from his arm. “Anyway, it’s fine. I’ll adjust my expectations and if they won’t agree right away, I’ll make them see. I can be very stubborn.”

“Yeah, I bet you can,” Barton said with a smile. The glow from the windows softened his face and made him look younger, almost boyish.

“Well.” Darcy smoothed her skirt in a nervous motion and then held out her hand to shake. “Thank you again, Mr. Barton. I hope I can count on your support if it comes to a vote.”

Barton took her hand in his, but rather than shake it like a decent near-stranger, he bent and kissed the back of her knuckles. The touch of his lips felt like a brand even through her gloves and she drew in a sharp breath. He released her and tucked his hands in his pockets, his small smile saying he knew just how stirring his touch had been.

“I wish you luck, Miss Lewis. It won't be easy convincing the council, but I sure will enjoy watching you try.”

That wasn't quite the endorsement she had been hoping for, but drawing out the conversation when he had such a lax view on protocol might prove dangerous. Not because she believed he would harm her, but because she enjoyed his inappropriate behavior more than she should. So Darcy wished him a good night and went inside, running to the parlor window to watch his slow amble away from the house.

He paused at the corner and turned to look back at the house and Darcy quickly ducked behind the drapes. When she dared to peek again, he was still standing there, still looking back. Then he raised a hand in farewell and continued on, disappearing around the corner.

_ What a strange man _ , Darcy thought. Then the thrill she'd felt when he'd kissed her hand resurfaced.  _ Strange, but handsome enough to make up for it _ .

For the first time since the accident at the mine, Darcy drifted off to sleep that night thinking not of the dead and restitution, but of the very alive bar owner with sharp eyes and an understanding smile. She already had a plan, but now she might have an ally, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to leave a kudos, or you can really make my day and leave a comment.


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